


Scrapbook Moments

by yukisadah



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Archive warnings privy to change, Gen, No Romance, THEY'LL ALL APPEAR EVENTUALLY
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-12
Updated: 2016-04-06
Packaged: 2018-05-26 06:51:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6228235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yukisadah/pseuds/yukisadah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>30 one-shots/drabbles centering around one or both of the Stan twins. Genre may switch from chapter to chapter, and each chapter is an individual one not linked to other ones in the work. No romance is intended, but if you want to infer something then go ahead. Some chapters may be longer or shorter than others, length will vary. Chapters may also be either canon compliant or AUs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. beginning.

**Author's Note:**

> This is from a 30 day theme challenge, so here's to hoping I can make it through a whole theme challenge for once \o/ This is an AU in which the two sets of twins switch roles. It's a shorter and light-hearted chapter. Hopefully updates for this will be daily. I hope you are able to enjoy it.

N⁰₁. **beginning.**

 

Kicking the bus seat in front of him, twelve year old Stanley Pines decided he was, without a doubt, bored out of his skull! They had been on this stupid bus for what seemed like an eternity, driving from Glass Shard Beach, New Jersey all the way out to Gravity Falls, Oregon. Wherever that was. He wasn’t really sure? What mattered was it was a long and boring trip!

The two were the the only ones on the deserted bus, had been since the whole dumb ride had begun. The two being himself and his genius twin brother, Ford!

Speaking of Ford...with a smug grin that only promised trouble, Stan poked his brother’s shoulder, disrupting the reading child who looked eerily similar to him…

Ford, or Stanford Pines, as his full name was, had been spending the bus ride with as much ease as a twelve year old could possibly manage. He had looked out the window for a bit, played a number of games with his brother, and read a few of the extensive number of novels he had brought with him. In fact, if one were to take a gander, they might say he had one book for every day of the Summer he would be spending here with their Great Uncle Dipper.

Their parents had sent them away for the Summer school holiday, far from the sunny beaches of New Jersey they usually spent all of their free time at. It wasn’t a matter of them not playing outside, the twins were outside quite often really, it was more to get them away from their “silly obsession” with the Stan O’ War. Their parents would see it wasn’t just a “silly obsession” when he and Stan sailed away and went on adventures together!

Speaking of their Great Uncle Dipper, Ford couldn’t say he knew very much about the man. Sure they had seen him around once or twice for a holiday, and apparently the guy had been there when they were born, but that was as much as could be said. He knew “Grunkle” Dipper was kind of a weird guy who liked money a lot, so he wasn’t a complete stranger, but…

Finally Stan’s incessant poking seemed to get through to the more bookish twin. Shaking himself from his thoughts, the boy turned to his brother with a small smile, “Hey, quit it!” He laughed not unkindly, “What’s wrong, bro?”

“This trip is so boring! Aren’t we there yet?” the slightly younger complained, kicking his legs back and forth with even more vigor.

“Well, it’s been over two days, so we should probably be there soo--” the other began, stopping as the bus came to a sudden stop, throwing both boys forward against the back of the seat in front of them with the unexpected jolt.

“Gravity Falls Oregon, Mystery Shack,” the man driving them spoke in a monotone, throwing open the doors with a flick of a switch.

Sharing twin grins, the two boys gathered their things together and hopped off of the bus, glad to be finally able to move around and stretch their legs. Putting his hands on his hips, Stan took a moment to breath in the fresh air with an approving light to his face, “Thank god that’s over with!”

“It wasn’t that bad,” Ford gave a slight laugh, adjusting the strap of the bag on his shoulder.

“Hey there, kids,” an older sounding voice greeted them, causing the two boys to look up. An aging familiar man stood there to greet them, wearing a welcoming smile to match the dark suit and white fez that adorned him. A pine tree in blue stood out on the front of the hat, looking distinctly out of place compared to his black and white pantsuit. Still, this was without a doubt their Grunkle Dipper.

“Welcome to the Mystery Shack!” the man exclaimed, gesturing behind him to the rugged looking wooden structure, a large sign standing upon its roof.

The twin boys looked up in odd wonder at the place, both turning to look at each other with matching grins. This seemed like the beginning of a summer to remember!


	2. accusation.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A small snippet from when Stan and Ford were 12. Crampelter wants to get Ford in trouble. As if Stan would allow for that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Wow! This was hard to get out!! Their personalities are sort of? Different because of their ages. I don't know how old they were in the flashback to Glass Shard Beach (8 I've heard?) so they're 12 here, a bit older, but definitely not as old or the same as their world-weary 60-something selves. This is longer than the first chapter but still on the shorter side, I know, I'm sorry!
> 
> I should probably mention, I'm from New Jersey myself and boy! Is it hard not to just write out the accent that I know they would have! But I want this to be readable, and writing out accents isn't really my style. For the sake of the story, just picture them speaking in a New Jersey accent-- (A real one! Joisey is not real) 
> 
> I already have an idea for next chapter so hopefully that'll be out sooner? It'll be an AU chapter, more focused on Stan, so please look forward to it!
> 
> Thanks for reading!

N⁰₂. **accusation.**

   

    “If you take x--”

The ever dull droning on of maths class passed right over Stan’s head, the young middle schooler too concentrated on his doodling to bother paying any sort of semblance of attention to the class. Maths just wasn’t that important to the twelve-almost-thirteen year old. Especially not gross algebra. Who wanted to know that kind of stuff!

Well, Ford probably did, but he was the nerd of them anyways. Stan’s job was to use his fists to talk! While his brother was the brains, the younger boy was the brawns. Speaking of brawns, wasn’t boxing practice today again?

As the bandage-ridden boy continued to doodle and think about what was to come later in the day, his elder brother was paying rapt attention to the equations on the board. In contrast to his twin, the bespectacled youth had a certain love for knowledge. His favorites were the maths and sciences, though that’s not to say he did poorly in the other subjects taught at school. Right now, he was furiously copying down notes, looking up at the board and back down again in rapid turns to make sure he was getting everything down correctly.

At this point, the two boys were still fairly identical, minus of course the extra finger on Ford and the purposeful lack of glasses leading to the bandages on Stan. A fact the boys would capitalize on at times to switch during boxing lessons (it’s not like their father would notice anyways).

While they still were friendless outside of having each other, the two enjoyed their solitary lives. The Stan O’ War was a continued work on progress, their special hangout at the swings on the beach a daily trip. It was a fun time, an easy one. And while the Stan twins were always alone, they were content with it as such.

“Pines Twins to the principal’s office. Pines twins to the principal’s office”

The ever-suffering voice of the secretary crackled across the loud speaker, shattering the lazy daze the majority of the math class had been in. No one moved for a moment, the teacher pausing as well, before snapping, “Well, what are you waiting for? Go!” she gestured with her chalk, shooing the two boys away.

Scrambling up, Ford closed his notebook, sharing a confused frown with his brother, and both stood up. Ignoring the " _ooooh_ ”’s of their classmates, the twins walked out of the room and down the hall.

“Stan, why do you think they’re calling us? We’re not in trouble, are we?” Ford asked, a smidgen of worry coloring his tone.

“Nah, don’t worry about it. If anyone’s in trouble it’s probably me. Besides, everyone knows you’re too much of a nerd to get in trouble, bro,” Stan laughed, punching his brother lightly in the shoulder, to which the other responded with a laugh as well.

Stopping in front of the secretary, the two paused as she glared down at them. With one bony finger, she silently pointed to the dark wooden door adjacent to them. Taking the implied order, the twins filed in, first Ford and then Stan, with the younger rolling his eyes at the elder woman’s attempt at intimidation.

“This is really just about Stanford, but you can stay in too Stanley. I’m sure you also had a hand in this,” the man behind the desk spoke, gesturing for the two to sit down. In the third seat furthest to the right sat Crampelter, turning to give the boys a wicked smile as they took their seats. Stan did the favor of sitting next to the bully, his brother seated to his left looking nervous.

“What’s this all about, sir?” The elder twin asked nervously, not liking that he was being singled out in the principal’s office with his number one tormentor in the vicinity.

Clearing his throat, the elder man began, “Well, Mr. Crampelter here has brought to our attention that you, Stanford Pines, have been stealing chemicals from the chemistry room after school. The head of the science department, Mr. Wall, has been trying to figure out where the missing components for the chemistry classes have gone and Crampelter has brought to light the truth of the matter,” the male explained.

This was clearly a false allegation. If the broad smug smile on the blond’s face wasn’t enough indication, Ford’s shocked and confused face was. It was obvious the bigger boy had set Ford up to get in trouble, so obvious that the teachers hadn’t even considered the possibility, it seemed.

“But, sir, I would never--” the elder twin stumbled over his words, unable and unwilling to believe that he could be framed for such a thing.

Next to him, Stan narrowed his eyes at the boy to his right, gritting his teeth as the other male smirked back at him. Did this big fat lug think he could get his brother in trouble right in front of him without Stan being able to do anything to stop it?! As if!

There was no doubt in Stanley’s mind that Crampelter had stolen the whatever it was they used in chemistry on purpose to frame Ford. There was no way his brother would ever steal from a teacher, he loved school! (for some reason).

“No. Sorry, kid, but I’m afraid you’re going to have to be punished. Three weeks--” the principal began, only to be cut off as Stanley jumped up suddenly and spoke up.

“No! It wasn’t Ford who done it, I stole the chemicals,” he exclaimed, face serious, “I was tryin’ to get them so I could get poindexter here to make some real cool potions so we could fight off the ghost pirates, but I guess Crampelter saw me,” the boy spat out.

“What? But this boy here said he was certain he saw Stanford,” the adult insisted, readjusting his black-framed glasses.

Giving a shrug, the younger twin replied easily, “He probably just mistook me for Ford, the two of us are similar and all. And he’s dumb so he probably couldn’t tell the difference,” he tacked on at the end, unable to stop himself from taking a shot at the boy who mocked his twin.

“I see...that could indeed be the case,” the principal concessed, ignoring Crampelter’s objections. Clearing his throat again, the male continued, “In that case, Stanley Pines, you have three weeks of detention. I won’t get the police involved, but I will be calling your father.”

“Sure thing, teach. Can Ford and I go now?” Stanley asked easily, trying to ignore the pit gnawing within his stomach at the mention of his father. That would not be a good situation to deal with later, but for now, as long as Ford was okay Stan didn’t mind.

With a nod, “Yes, you’re all free to head back to class,” the elder dismissed the trio, gesturing for them to shuffle out of his office and back down the hallway.

Outside the door to the office, Crampelter whirled around and turned, glaring at the younger twin, “You may have stopped me from getting your freak of a brother in trouble, tweedle dumb, but with you in detention he’ll be left all alone and defenceless,” he grinned.

“Shut up, Crampelter! My bro ain’t afraid of you,” the bandaged child replied, shaking his fist at the much larger tween.

Letting out a snort of laughter, the blond shook his head, “Sure he isn’t. Whatever. I’ll see you losers later,” and stalked off down the empty hall.

Watching him go with his hands on his hips, Stan shook his own head. What was even up with that guy? Couldn’t he leave Ford and him enough alone? As he thought this, Standford was looking down nervously at the ground, biting his lip.

In a quietly nervous voice, his elder brother broke through the younger’s annoyance, “Stan, why’d you do that? You know dad’ll be disappointed when he hears about this…” and disappointing their father was not on the top of their list.

Shrugging his arms and holding his palms up, Stan smiled, “It’ll be fine, don’t worry, bro. I can handle it easy!” He grinned, moving to wrap his arm around his twin’s shoulder and pull his head close.

Unable to hold back a smile of his own, Ford felt himself let go of his worry a bit. Sure dad would be mad, but he wouldn’t be _too_ mad, right?

“Forget this! Let’s go to see the Stan O’ War and work on it after school before going home! Boxing isn’t until later anyways,” a privilege he’d probably get revoked, but it was worth it to see his twin smile.

Pushing his impending punishment from his mind, Stan continued to keep a hold on his twin, the two grinning like dogs as they walked back to class, thoughts of their exciting future sailing around the world on both of their minds.

A future they were sure they would greet together as a team.


	3. restless.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How did Stan ever learn how to manipulate the Mindscape so well anyhow? A look at Bill attempting to get Stan to make a deal and the other refusing to give in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be honest, I love Stan interacting with Bill, their personalities are interesting to see clashing. Anyways, enjoy! I had a number of ideas for this chapter, a Shuuen no Shiori AU with Stan as C-ta and Ford as A-ya, a reverse!portal AU, etc, but went with this. First time writing Bill in full, so hopefully that went well :3c

N⁰₃. **restless.**

 

Rubbing at his tired shadow-rimmed eyes, Stanley Pines gave a barely stifled yawn and collapsed onto his brother’s former bed. It had been a whole week since Ford had been pushed into the portal. Seven whole days of agony. Seven days of sitting and worrying anxiously, seven days of pouring over the seemingly nonsensical babbling of the journal his twin had thrown at him. His twin that he had pushed into a portal to who knows where. His twin he may have sentenced to death.

    No. He couldn’t think like that--- Ford wasn’t dead. There was no chance his nerdy brother would die before Stan could save him. He had to think positively here, had to continue trying to teach himself all of the math and science his brother had used to make this portal thing of his. If he could turn the portal back on, Stan could go in and find his brother. He had no idea what was on the other side, but no matter where it led to, the younger Pines twin was willing to go and find his brother.

    He had to fix this.

    The lack of sleep, his time spent on the books when he realized he couldn’t sleep, was making the male more negative and moody than usual. Not to mention he was sure he would run out of food soon and be forced to go into town and find a way to make a quick buck. He could shoplift too, it all depended really.

    Why had he been unable to sleep again? Sure, he wanted to work to bring his lost sibling back as quickly as possible, but the man physically had been unable to sleep for more than a few minutes at a time ever since that fateful day. Whenever he would close his eyes, he would find himself jolting up again a mere few minutes later, a frown on his face and heart racing, the sound of mocking laughter ringing in his ears.

    Deciding not to look to much into it, Stan gave a shrug and laid down, pulling the covers over him and staring at the wooden ceiling blankly. Even though he knew the same thing that had been happening for the past seven days would likely continue, the male still decided to give sleeping a try. There was only so long a person couldn’t rest.

    Yawning again, Stan watched as the ceiling above him blurred, the image getting smaller and smaller as twin blinds of darkness rushed in from the edges of his vision, eyelids drooping until they were completely closed.

    With a sudden sense of awareness, Stan looked around himself, finding his environment to be...Glass Shard Beach? A sense of confusion washed over him as he took in his surroundings, the feel of the warm sand underneath his feet, the cawing of the seagulls circling overhead, the smell of saltwater in the air. Everything looked just as it had all those years ago, which meant that right behind him would be--

    Turning around, the male stared with wide eyes at the monochrome colored swing set that  greeted him. One of the swings was broken, a swing he was all too familiar with. The monochrome color seemed to be bleeding out, beginning to dye its surroundings and seemingly moving further outwards infecting this world in greys.

    “What the…?” the male mumbled to himself, trying to make sense of what was going on. Where was he? He certainly wasn’t back home in New Jersey, and he felt oddly better than he had in a long while. Was he dreaming…?

    “Hey there, Stanley! Whatcha looking at? That splash of crippling despair in your mind slowly spreading out to consume your whole mindscape? You know, you should really just surrender your body and mind to me now before it gets any worse,” an all too amused voice spoke out suddenly from right next to the brunet’s head.

    Letting out a yelp, the male turned to face the other quickly, prepared for an attack from his previously unseen companion. Once he got a good look at the other, the long-haired man could only stare with incomprehension. Was that..a floating neon yellow triangle with a top hat and a cane? Heck, he was even wearing a little bow-tie! He had to be dreaming if this thing was here, there was no way something like this could exist outside his mind in the real world!

    “Who are you? What are you doing here? And where the hell am I?” Stan questioned, glancing around himself again, “It looks like back in Jersey, but…”

    “Oh, Stanley, Stanley, Stanley, Stanley, Stanley,” the _thing_ shook its head, hands placed lightly atop its cane as it shut its one eye, “Do we have to do this little interrogation every single night? I’ll tell you, but you had better remember it this time,” it circled around to the male’s other side. Opening its single eye, the thing seemed almost amused, “The name’s Bill Cipher, but you can call me Bill, and we’re in your mindscape!”

    “‘Mindscape’?” The human repeated, frowning a bit with his lack of understanding. Pausing for a moment, he continued, “So this is inside my head? But then what are you doing here?”

    “Ha, gotta hand it to you, Fez, you’re a lot smarter than Sixer said you were! You catch on quick, _a little too quick_ ,” Bill replied, eye widening and tone changing with the last part of his response.

    Stan didn’t like the way the other had said that. There was something almost threatening in it, like bubbles of annoyance and anger fighting at the very lid of a container keeping them in check. He had only known the guy for a total of, what, 7 minutes? And already Stanley didn’t like him. And what was with calling him Fez?

    “Yeah, so anyways, what are you doing here, you one-eyed triangle..thing?” He reiterated, noting how Bill hadn’t answered his previous question.

    Splaying his arms out to his sides akin to something of a shrug, the demon responded, “Oh, just thought I might offer you the only way to save your brother is all.”

    “What?!” The brown-eyes of the man widened, immediately foregoing all of his wariness, he jumped at the chance, “What’s this offer you’re talking about?”

    “It’s simple really. You just have to agree to let me help you out in anyway I can is all,” the being shrugged again, tone light.

    “...Help me out?” The male narrowed his eyes, deep in thought. There was no way it was that simple. Deals didn’t work like that, Stan knew, his decade on the streets had taught him as much.

    “Yep! So, whaddya say, Fez? Have we got a **_deal_ **?” Bill emphasized the last word, a suddenly snap and blue flames were engulfing his black hand, now outstretched towards Stanley.

    Staring at it for a moment, the man frowned, weighing his options. He did want to save Ford, really he did, but there was something off about this. Hadn’t his brother been going off about someone stealing eyes before when Stan had first come to the door? Did this mindscape demon thing have something to do with that?

    “What exactly would you do to ‘help me out’?” The younger Pines twin questioned, looking Bill straight in the eye.

    Keeping his hand out, the other waved his free hand nonchalantly, “Oh, you know. Give you knowledge, help you put it all together.”

    “Yeah, I get that, but how? You obviously can’t get outta this ‘mindscape’ since I’ve never seen you before now,” Stanley retorted, knowing that the creature was hiding something from him.

    “Well,” Bill dragged out, “I would have to enter your mind and maybe take over your body to help you with some parts, but that’s no big deal, right? Not in the face of saving your brother from the other side of the portal, when he might be dying right now.”

    Stan knew manipulation when he saw it. Had come face to face with it while learning the ways of the world. Manipulation, withholding information, twisting emotions to get what you wanted-- he had been around the block long enough to know when to recognize a con when he saw one. As if he would let this _thing_ control his body. Who knew what it could do?

    “Sorry, pal, but no dice. I’ll figure it out on my own,” the human waved away the others inflamed hand, taking a step back towards the swing set.

    “Oh, Stanley Pines, you are one tough customer. This is day eight. Eight days of me trying to convince you to not make another mistake, but I guess you’re just not capable of being smart for once,” Bill replied, voice incredibly tense, his lone eye contracting again. Pointing behind Stan, the triangle continued, “See that? Pretty spiffy place, right? The pathetic affection makes you cling to this place because of your stupid one-sided love for your brother. But that splash of despair right there? It’ll only grow. If you want to spend thirty years trying to bring Sixer back, thirty years with him trapped facing the horrors on the other side, well it’s all your fault when he doesn’t come back.”

    “Can it, I can recognize a con when I see one,” Stanley shot back, acting as though the others words weren’t reaching him. Still, they had hit a mark in the back of his mind. Could he really afford to possibly leave Ford alone for so long on the other side..?

    Seeming to calm down a bit, Bill continued, “This was your last chance, Fez. For now, at least. But I’ll be back,” he laughed, a crazed sort of laugh, “I’ll be back! I’m sure you’ll change your mind as years continue to pass and Ford is still stuck on the other side.”

    With a snap, the man jolted up, sweating as the echoing throngs of laughter continued to ring in his ears. Glancing at the clock across from him, the male couldn’t help a groan at seeing only a total of three minutes has passed since he had closed his eyes. With a sigh, he stood up, pulling out the journal again. He might as well use his time well.

    After that night, Stanley was able to sleep again. For a while, Bill left him alone. As the years continued to pass, the demon would return now and again. Every time, the triangle would attempt to coerce Stan into agreeing to his insane demands, and every time Stan would send him packing.

    With time, the later dubbed Mr. Mystery would learn how to control his mindscape. Whenever the other would come, he would be able to sense him. It was easy, really. You really could do anything in dreams. If the demon triangle ever tried to use force, Stanley would just fight back, thinking up things to chase the demon away. Hell, he could even get the other out if he just wished hard enough for it! Pretty spiffy, if he had to say so himself.

    Bill had been right, though. The monochrome colouring had come to encompass the whole of his mindscape. The beach shifted into the Mystery Shack somewhere down the line, though the swing set remained unchanged. At some point the demon seemed to have given up, leaving Stan alone for a handful of years.

    It wasn’t until Dipper, Mabel, and Soos had entered his mind that Stanley had felt the demon again. Fixing his nephew up, the man had sent the boy on his way to help his sister and Soos fight Bill. If there was anyone who could figure out how to stop a dream demon in someone’s dream without being told how, it was Dipper.ach him how dangerous Bill was if the guy ever approached the kid. Bess, if tide

    It’d help the kid get stronger, build character and all that. Still, if things got too rough, Stan’d intervene.

    Leaning back into the memory, a habit he had picked up after exploring the mindscape for years, Stan gave a relaxed sigh and took a sip from his Pitt Cola. As if he’d ever accept Bill’s stupid deal. What kind of idiot made a deal with a demon anyways?


	4. snowflake.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While Stan and Dipper are out, Mabel and Ford spend time together one wintry night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a bit hard for some reason, but I did it! Some nice Mabel & Ford interaction...we need more of this, haha. Enjoy! Next chapter should be soon since I'm pretty certain on what I want to do.

 N⁰₄. **snowflake.**

 

   Watching the snowflakes float by the window, Stanford Pines couldn’t help the wide range of emotions warring within him. That’s not to say he was feeling particularly displeased at the moment, far from it really, just...mixed. It was hard to be upset with his niece standing next to him in the kitchen of the Shack, excitedly pounding out the dough for the cookies she had insisted they make together.

    It was Winter in Gravity Falls and he and his brother had returned home to spend the holiday with their great niece and nephew. While the elder Pines twins had been sailing across the seas, going on many adventures and exploring numerous anomalies outside of Gravity Falls, Oregon, they had been sure to keep in contact with the younger twins who had changed so much of their lives this past summer. With Christmas on the way, Mabel and Dipper had Skyped their great uncles, the female of the pair pushing hard for the two sixty-something year old men to agree to take a break for the holidays.

    From what he had heard, Dipper and Mabel had been a force to reckon with, pulling out all of the stops to get their parents to agree to let them come up to Oregon again for the winter season. With logic (Dipper) and much, in the words of his nephew, “annoying them into agreeing” (Mabel), the twins had been granted permission and giddily informed their sea-faring relatives.

    Upon learning the news, Stan and Ford has instantly set course for home, docking in Oregon and making their way to Gravity Falls via bus. Soos had been more than ecstatic to see them, instantly showing them to their rooms (of which he had apparently kept in pristine condition in the hopes of them one day returning).

    There was something nice about having a home to return to after a long adventure out into the unknown, a feeling glowing warmly within Ford’s chest that he had sorely missed while in the portal those thirty long years. Not to say he didn’t enjoy their expedition, spending time with his brother going on adventures and chasing down the unexplained was everything the senior could have hoped for. No, he did enjoy his time out. At the same time, there would always be a coziness, a sense of belonging, in having a place to return.

    Everyone in town, of course, had welcomed the two adventurers back with open arms. From that little boy who had a crush on Mabel to Fiddleford himself (who he had to go make a visit to at some point after the holiday), everyone seemed overjoyed to have them back. That was another odd feeling. Being welcomed back and adored by the public was not something Ford could say he had ever had the pleasure of experiencing. It was another pleasantness, adding on to the feeling of belonging that returning home brought.

    Pair those emotions with the fact that this was his first snowfall since that horrible day over thirty years ago, and one had a glimpse into the whirlwind within the six-fingered man’s mind. While it was a wonderful thing to be able to see the snow again in his home dimension and celebrate with his family, the nagging reminder of that fateful day seemed to want to taint the mood of the winter spirit.

    It had been a winter day just like today when Stanley had heeded his call for aid. A winter day just like today when he had fought with his brother, branded him, then been accidentally sucked into the portal that would keep him from home for thirty years. A winter day that had kick-started the beginning of the end, just as Bill had planned it to be.

    “Grunkle Ford! I think these _puppies_ are ready to go into the oven, ha, ha, zing!” his niece’s voice had snapped the elderly fellow from his thoughts. Shifting his gaze from the window to the cookies the young girl had made, Ford couldn’t help a chuckle at the joke she had made.

    “Right, Mabel. Take a step back for a moment while I put these in the oven. We wouldn’t want you to burn yourself,” he asked, pausing for a moment on the word “burn”.

    “You got it, Grunkle Ford!” the thirteen year old grinned, hopping off of the stool she had been standing on and making her way over to the paper-covered table by the windows.

    Picking up the tray of dog-shaped cookies, each one decorated to appear to be wearing little green and red winter wear, the sweater-clad male carefully slid the tray into the heated contraption.

    “They should be done in about forty-five minutes,” Ford called back, setting the timer on the oven before removing the mitten he had been wearing over his hand and making his way over to where the girl had moved to.

    Taking a seat in the chair across from her, the bespectacled man took the time to watch as Mabel cut little snippets into the folded pieces of paper before her, beginning to lose himself in his thoughts again.

    Stanley and Dipper had gone out, though to where they had kept mum. Despite himself, Ford couldn’t keep from letting his thoughts stray to _that day_ once more. Looking back, it was amazing how foolish he had been to do what he had. Why had he not let Stanley just burn the journal when he had the chance…? Of course it would mean losing some of his hard-worked research, but the fate of the universe meant more than that.

    Would things have been different if he had taken the time to explain the situation to his twin? If he had let Stan burn the journal? If he and his brother had never acted on their rash high-strung emotions and fought each other?

    They had both been hurt that day. He had been thrown into the portal and fought his way through the multiverse for thirty years, and Stan...well, they hadn’t discussed it at length, but it was obvious that the day had had both a physical ( _his scar, which Ford still couldn’t look at without feeling a twinge of guilt_ ) and emotional toll on him. Both of them had made mistakes that day, and they had each suffered more than enough for it.

    “Grunkle Ford, here, I made this for you!” the brunette in front of the male exclaimed, forcing the elder from his brooding thoughts and dark memories.

Looking up, the elder blinked, staring at the glitter-covered shiny shape of a piece of paper cut into a symmetrical design. Noticing his gaze, the girl moved to explain herself, “It’s a snowflake for you! See, it has six sides! Every snowflake is unique in its own way, but everyone thinks they’re all beautiful,” the braces-wearing young teen exclaimed with a wide smile. The hidden meaning behind the work was obvious.

The senior took a moment to process this, then took the offered work with a smile, “Thank you, Mabel. It’s a wonderful piece of work,” he complimented.

    Gazing down at the snowflake in his six-fingered hands, the male couldn’t help but smile. Mabel really was a sweet girl, he couldn’t believe he had so callously told Dipper she was holding the boy back.

Ford was only lucky things had worked out so well in the end for all of them, and it was all thanks to this little girl and her brother. Without them, he never would have made up with Stan, never had the chance to be truly happy and reconnect with his family.

“Say, why don’t we go watch that show you and Stanley seem to love. I’m sure when he finds out you watched the Christmas special with me, your Grunkle Stan’ll be jealous,” he offered with a wink, a teasing lilt to his tone.

“Ducktective! You really want to watch, Grunkle Ford?” the young teen questioned, looking ecstatic that he wanted to watch with her.

“Sure I do! And Dipper and Stanley can join us when they come back,” he exclaimed, holding out a hand as he spoke, thumb and pointer out while his other fingers remained curled.

Letting out a squeal of excitement, the girl grabbed a bowl of popcorn sitting on the counter (they had been stringing the light snack for decoration purposes earlier), and jumped onto the couch in the television room. With one last look at the snowflake, Ford followed after his niece, taking a seat on the couch next to her.

Huh, Stanley was right, this show wasn’t half-bad.

It wasn’t long until Soos and Melody wandered in, sitting on the floor next to the couch and joining in on the viewing. When the two missing boys from the pair of twins had returned, they were quick to join in, both sets of twins squishing together onto the couch, all eyes in the room glued to the television set.

Pausing in his viewing, Ford took a moment to look around, a small smile painting his features.

It was good to be home.


	5. haze.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This had to be a dream. It had to be. There was no way something like this could be real, just no way! Ford would never die, would never just go and leave Stanley like that. Stanley would never not be there to protect his brother-- this couldn’t be real.  
> This was a dream.
> 
> "It’s not a dream.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you thought I could resist this you were WRONG. Kagerou Days!AU, this is such a throwback I can't even believe it. Formatting got a bit messed up because AO3 loves to hate me, but...
> 
> Also working on a collab Relativity Falls comic with [fishface444](http://fishface444.tumblr.com/) so be on the lookout for that \o/
> 
> Not sure what I'll do for the next one, but I have some ideas.
> 
> Character death warning for this chapter, obviously.

N⁰₅.  **haze.**

 

Pushing lightly off the burning sand with his sneaker-clad foot, Stanley Pines swung slowly, staring blankly at the coarse grains beneath him. Next to him his twin brother, Stanford, was smiling as he scribbled in his notebook, various doodles and seemingly nonsensical notes filling the margins of the flimsy pages. 

“Hey, Ford,” Stan started, an uncharacteristically blank expression upon his face.

Looking up from his work, the elder Pines twin meet his brother’s matching gaze, a look of confusion evident upon his features. Stan was the type who always wore a smile, running this way and that and getting into trouble, their mother called him a “free spirit” for a reason. Even when he was hurt, his younger brother would shoot Ford a smile and insist he was fine. For the other to be showing his emotions like this had to mean it was bad.

“What’s wrong, Stan?” hoping his gaze would help to show the other he was concerned, the young tween dropped his notepad into his lap. 

The pair had been sitting on the beach for a while now, not having school as it was Summer time. August was particularly hot on the Jersey shore, but there wasn’t a better place to spend time than at their favorite spot on Glass Shard beach.

It had to have been a good few hours now that they had been here, having rushed out excitedly as soon as they woke up. While they had worked on the Stan O’ War for a bit, now they were taking a break, the sun blazing down on them from high up in the centre of the sky. If Ford had to venture a guess, he’d say it was probably almost lunch time.

“Do you feel like...nah, never mind! It’s nothing, I was just thinking about something,” the other tween responded easily, shaking off his odd expression and replacing it with a smile.

For some reason, Stanley had had a weird sense of deja vu all day. Not the whole “I’m pretty sure I dreamt this happening before” kind of deja vu, more like a “something horrible is gonna happen soon and I gotta prevent it from happening this time” kind of feeling. That didn’t make sense, though, right? It’s not like someone could just go back in time and do things over again like in the comics!

Hopping off his swing, the younger boy turned to his brother, “Say, why don’t we go find us some food to eat, it’s probably lunch time and I’m getting pretty hungry!”

With a laugh, his twin readily agreed, moving to jump off the swing when a sudden gust of wind from the ocean’s expanse blew through them. Both boys squinted their eyes to protect themselves from the inevitable onslaught of uplifted sand, Ford’s widening marginally as his notes flew away.

“My notepad!” the boy cried, rushing off across the tan-coloured sea to reach his precious material. 

The boys had been discussing earlier going on a trip to the Pine Barrens to see if they could find the Jersey Devil somewhere. While Stan wasn’t all together too interested in the supernatural, he did like being with his brother, and an adventure always sounded fun. Heck, when the two of them sailed off one day. They’d go on an adventure of a lifetime…!

A bit lost in his thoughts of their grand years to come, Stan ran after his brother at a slower pace, watching as the other rushed out onto the sidewalk past the boardwalk and into town. His own feet touching the pavement, the younger twin could only widen his eyes as his sibling ran out in the middle of the street. Ford was so caught up in catching his papers, the boy hadn’t noticed where he was going or stopped to check if there were any cars coming.

Oblivious to the danger, the elder brunet paused in the middle of the street, bending down to pick up his journeyed paper. The wind had finally dropped it down, and he was able to retrieve it. Letting out a sigh of relief, the bespectacled boy stood up straight, smiling down at his important research.

The blasting sound of a car horn cut through the air, snagging both boys’ attentions. His head snapping to the side, Ford watched as a large truck barreled towards him, the driver not having seen the child until it was too late. Stan watched with wide eyes from the edge of the sidewalk, frozen in place as his brother was slammed into the front grill of the truck, blood splattering the streets in a macabre painting. 

“Stanford!” The boy screamed, the truck stopping just as it hit his beloved brother. A crowd of onlookers soon took notice of the scene, gathering around and whispering amongst themselves. 

Ignoring the audience, staring as though it were some sort of sick show for their shock and entertainment, the twinless twin pushed through the group and collapsed on the ground next to his brother. Paying no heed to the sticky red liquid (almost like that sugary drink he and Ford had been sharing yesterday…), the child reached out his unsteady arms and shook his brother lightly. 

“Poindexter...come on...wake up…!” he lamented, tears already flowing down his face in thick streams. Sniffling, the boy used one arm to wipe at his nose, continuing to call out, “Sixer! Nerd! Ford! ...Bro...please…!”  

But no matter what he did, his twin wouldn’t answer him.

 

No one moved to comfort the boy, merely continuing to watch on as the child cried out. 

 

Removing his hands, the boy looked down at the red-stained surface of his skin, reminded of the time they had gone out to pick strawberries at their pop-pop’s farm earlier that same summer. 

This had to be a dream. It had to be. There was no way something like this could be real, just no way! Ford would never die, would never just go and leave Stanley like that. Stanley would never not be there to protect his brother-- this couldn’t be real.

This was a dream.

“It’s not a dream.”

                      “Ford!” 

Stan awoke with a gasp, hand clutching his chest as he shot up, sweat staining his clothing. After a moment to calm down, the boy looked around, noticing he was in a completely different place than he had been in before. 

\--Wait, had been before? Where had he been?

Feeling his mind a bit muddied, the young boy took a deep breath, looking around the room. That’s right, he was at home in his room. He and Ford had just come back from being at their pop-pop’s house for a month, their mom had welcomed with them open arms (their father merely nodded in contrast), and they had had a dinner of microwaved chicken tv dinners before being shooed off to bed. 

He and his bro had spent a few hours playing around and unpacking before heading off to bed, Ford to his top bunk and Stan to the bottom. Whatever he had dreamt about hadn’t been real, there was no reason for Stanley to be so worried.

Despite that, the boy couldn’t help himself. Hopping out of bed, the male looked up at the ladder reaching up to the top bunk where Ford lay. Unfortunately, the brunet was too short to be able to see if his brother was up there. He’d have to climb.

 T aking a deep breath, the male grasped onto a rung, arms shaking (shaking...shaking as he pushed  _ and pushed and pushed and why wouldn’t Ford just wake up- _ -). No, he had to do this, he had to be sure. Gathering his courage, Stanley slowly made his way up the ladder, doing in ten minutes what would have taken anyone without fear a mere two.

Gasping a bit to try to quell his shivering, the tween stopped as his hands reached the top rung, pulling him up. Peering over the wooden safety measure, brown eyes were met with the sight of his brother sleeping peacefully, blissfully unaware of the younger twin’s paranoia.

With a sigh of relief, Stan gave a smile at the sight. Seeing, his bro was fine, there was no reason for him to be so worried! That check finished, the male slowly climbed down, taking an even longer time to reach the bottom than he had to climb up the ladder.

Once his sock-clad feet touched the floor, the boy let out a breath of relief. There was no way he was climbing up there again any time soon!

A few hours later found Ford and Stan at their swingset again, Stan on his swing and Ford upon his own, scribbling in his notepad about whatever nerdy thing he was interested in today. All through the day the younger twin had felt a weird sense of deja vu, a bad one. Hadn’t they already done all this before? He didn’t mean going to the beach and playing, but saying these exact words and doing these exact things and these exact moments?

It was kinda hard to explain, and thinking about it too much started to make the boy’s head hurt. 

Pushing lightly off the burning sand with his sneaker-clad foot, Stanley Pines swung slowly, staring blankly at the coarse grains beneath him. Next to him his twin brother, Stanford, was smiling as he scribbled in his notebook, various doodles and seemingly nonsensical notes filling the margins of the flimsy pages. 

“Hey, Ford,” Stan started, an uncharacteristically blank expression upon his face.

Looking up from his work, the elder Pines twin meet his brother’s matching gaze, a look of confusion evident upon his features. Stan was the type who always wore a smile, running this way and that and getting into trouble, their mother called him a “free spirit” for a reason. Even when he was hurt, his younger brother would shoot Ford a smile and insist he was fine. For the other to be showing his emotions like this had to mean it was bad.

“What’s wrong, Stan?” hoping his gaze would help to show the other he was concerned, the young tween dropped his notepad into his lap. 

The pair had been sitting on the beach for a while now, not having school as it was Summer time. August was particularly hot on the Jersey shore, but there wasn’t a better place to spend time than at their favorite spot on Glass Shard beach.

It had to have been a good few hours now that they had been here, having rushed out excitedly as soon as they woke up. While they had worked on the Stan O’ War for a bit, now they were taking a break, the sun blazing down on them from high up in the centre of the sky. If Ford had to venture a guess, he’d say it was probably almost lunch time.

“Do you feel like…” the younger hesitated for a moment.

“Like what?” the other questioned curiously.

“Like we’ve--!” Stanley began, only to be cut off as a gust of wind blew in from the great blue sea to the side of them. 

Both boys squinted, hoping to protect themselves from the onslaught of coarse grains blowing up towards their faces. The elder male’s eyes widened as his notebook flew off his lap, the small pad flying off with the wind towards the edge of the boardwalk and into the town. Hopping off of his swing, the young boy made to rush forward, only to be stopped by a hand on his arm, “My notepad…! Stan!” he turned, looking at the other holding him back.

“Hey...Ford…I think we should go home,” the boy mumbled, eyes stuck to the ground.

Pausing at the return of the other’s uncharacteristic serious melancholy, the elder gave a small nod. Relaxing his stance, Stanford replied, “Alright. I can just get another notepad later anyways.”

Thankful for the agreement, Stanley returned the nod and began walking back towards their home, Ford following a bit behind him. Usually the two would walk side by side, but today the younger twin was more determined and anxious to get home. Not paying much mind to his surroundings, the boy concentrated on making his way home, goal to return to the safety of the inside and escape whatever horrible thing he was sensing to come. 

“Stan, watch out!”

Two six-fingered hands on his back shoved the male forward, shocking the younger back into attention. Stumbling a bit, the male turned around to face his brother, eyes widening at the sight that greeted him.

Ford lay on the ground, red pools blossoming out from underneath his middle where a large construction pole stuck out. Looking up, the boy’s strangled gaze met the horrified looks of the men working above them, one of the steel poles they had been working with having slipped down from up above. 

A sudden piercing ragged sound became known to Stanley, and he was struck to find it was his own voice screaming. Collapsing down into the sticky red mess surround his twin, the boy reached forward with shaking hands, ignoring the pieces of notepad paper that had blown by and become stuck in the crimson liquid beneath him.

Reaching his shaking arms forward, the tween pushed at his brother, begging for the male to respond to him, “Ford! Poindexter, come on!”

He received only a shaky smile in response.

A smattering of people gathered around the scene, some holding up hands to their mouths at the gruesome picture before them. Stan paid them no mind. No one offered to help.

This had to be a dream. It had to be. There was no way something like this could be real, just no way! Ford would never die, would never just go and leave Stanley like that. Stanley would never not be there to protect his brother-- this couldn’t be real.

This was a dream.

“It’s  _ still _ not a dream.”

       “Ford!” 

Stan awoke with a gasp, hand clutching his chest as he shot up, sweat staining his clothing. After a moment to calm down, the boy looked around, noticing he was in a completely different place than he had been in before. 

\--Wait, had been before? Where had he been?

For some odd reason, Stanley felt he had been through this whole thing before…

Time continued to pass. Time continued to stop. Time continued to repeat. Again and again Stanley and Stanford would go out, and again and again, each same day without fail, Stanford would die. It took a few loops before the younger twin was able to notice it, but once he did, it was impossible to forget. 

Drowning.

Burning.

An accident.

    A fall.

No matter what he did, Stanley was unable to save his brother. He had tried everything, from staying home to keeping with their mom to staying in their fort. It didn’t work, there was always some way for Ford to be killed. It was as if the universe were taunting him, hurting Ford over and over again to show the boy he couldn’t save his brother.

As if Stanley would give up so easily.

It had taken him a while, perhaps even decades, to come up with this new plan. If he was right, Ford would be saved and this whole mess would finally come to an end. His twin would finally be able to live and go home, to see the next school year. To grow up. To smile. 

Keeping the image of his twin’s smiling face in mind, Stan clenched a fist to his chest tightly.

Today had gone just as many others before it had. The two had played at the beach for a few hours before heading to the swings for a rest. While they had sat, a gust of wind blasted past them, stealing away Ford’s journal along with it. The elder male had then raced off, with Stan following close behind him. Now his elder twin stood in the middle of the street, a truck driver scrambling to stop but unable to prevent the collision.

But Stanley could prevent Ford from dying this time.

Shooting himself off from the sidewalk and into the street, the younger male barrelled into his brother, shoving him across the way and out of danger. 

Unfortunately for the bandaged boy, that left him in the line of impact. He knew it would have come to this, and he had decided to take the fall. Stanley couldn’t imagine a world without his brother, and it was his  _ duty _ to protect Ford. 

If he was the one who got hurt, then Ford would be okay, wouldn’t he? Turning his head, the younger twin looked to his brother’s matching chocolate gaze. As the vehicle slammed into him, Stan couldn’t help but smile. He had finally won, after so long he had finally--

 

.

 

This had to be a dream. It had to be. There was no way something like this could be real, just no way! Stan would never die, would never just go and leave Stanford like that. Stanford had been so sure he had gotten it this time, that he had finally been able to save--

This was a dream.

“It’s  _ still _ not a dream.”

    “Stanley!” 

Ford awoke with a gasp, hand clutching his chest as he shot up, sweat staining his clothing. After a moment to calm down, the boy looked around, noticing he was in a completely different place than he had been in before. 

\--Wait, had been before? Where had he been?

.

Over twenty years later, Stanley Pines woke up with a start, his shoulder burning and his breath coming in short gasps. Clutching at his chest, the male looked around the unfamiliar room.

“...Ford?”

But this time, there was no one there.


End file.
